


Eye of the Beholder

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (Mostly) Fully Clothed, Bondage, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Facials, Hairplay, Immobilization, M/M, Painplay, Unwilling Arousal, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 17:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11537046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: CHAPTERS 2 AND 3 SPOILERSAs Ouma slammed his foot into his jaw for the hundredth time, Shinguuji knew he deserved this.





	Eye of the Beholder

It took a single look at Shinguuji's motive video to figure out he was a serial killer. It took half a look to figure out he was incesutal. It took even less time to figure out he was absolutely disgusting.

And it a longer time for Ouma to come to the decision that the two of them deserved to have a talk.

If Ouma was violently threatened to give Korekiyo a single compliment, it would have to be about his rope collection. The ropes weren't particularly heavy, but they were strong, and could easily tie up a weaker person with ease. Korekiyo was well aware of this, if the rope's signs of heavy use were apparent; and also because he was practically trying to become one with the wall opposite of where Ouma was standing.

But he clearly knew he was delaying the inevitable; he may be strong enough to kill a weak, ignorant women, but Ouma was far from one (except on weird nights). He was caught mid-dash for his dorm's door by a sucker punch, and could only watch as Ouma happily tied him up using his own rope collection. The irony was lost on him for the moment; he was more concerned about how sore his wrists and ankles were from the tightness of the knots. If this was a different situation, Korekiyo might've even said he was impressed at Ouma's craftsmanship.

But this wasn't a different situation.

For once in his life, Korekiyo didn't find the smile of another human to be beautiful. "Nishishi... who knew that the infamous Ladykiller, Shinguuji Korekiyo, was so easy to tie up? I'm unimpressed, Shinguuji-chan, I thought you would've fought harder for your sister. Oops!" He put a hand to his mouth to mask another giggle. "Soooorrry. I forgot. Your sister doesn't care about you, so fighting against me wouldn't have mattered anyway!"

"Yo ne..." Korekiyo said. "My sister cares deeply about me. She tells me every day... just a few more friends, and then, we'll be together. Forever. I just have to believe that---"

"Hey, what's this!"

Korekiyo refused to acknowledge that his face was madly blushing. He also refused to acknowledge that a clear boner was visible through his pants.

"No way... Shinguuji-chan... don't tell me. You're getting off on this?" Ouma said. "Wow. I knew you were the lowest of the low... but you're literally the lowest, hah! No wonder you didn't put up a fight; you were just teasing me, right? You're a better liar than I thought?"

Shinguuji couldn't get a single word of protest out, because Ouma slammed him in the face. He could feel his nose crack; blood began to stream down from it, and any attempts to wipe it off were halted by the tenacity of the ropes.

"...It's still there," Ouma said, almost to himself. "Wow. You're a slut for this, no kidding." He used his finger to taste a little bit of the blood rolling down Korekiyo's face. "You don't need to lie to me. You don't care about your sister, right? You're just a huge painwhore. Causing pain, experiencing pain... you're a complete slut for it all. I guess that's why your sister never talks to you; she doesn't like perverts."

"S..." Korekiyo gagged around the blood filling his mask. It took a few hacks to get even a single word out. "...he... talks to... g... me... loves... me..."

Korekiyo weakly gestured to his mask. Ouma immediately took the cue and slipped it off. He was taken aback at Korekiyo's makeup for exactly one second before wiping it off and tossing the mask away. Korekiyo looked like he was experiencing a PTSD flashback.

"Makeup, really? Crossdressing's not my kink," Ouma said. "But for an embarrassment like you, I guess you'd get off on anything. Hey, what about this!"

Korekiyo couldn't resist moaning as Ouma took his hand and began to stroke Korekiyo's cock through his pants. Ouma could tell Korekiyo wanted to get out of his bonds - every single stroke preceded a slight flinch - but Korekiyo could do nothing but just kneel there and take it. Ouma was absolutely in love with it; he could finally brag to his diary that he, at one point in his life, was taller than Shinguuji Korekiyo.

"A... ayama... ayamatte...!"

Ouma scoffed. "Sorry, I don't speak weebanese. God, how many women did you kill? Like, thirty? No wonder your sister had you kill that many; she'd prefer their pleasurable company over yours any day. And hey, I'm sure they actually do work during sex instead of being selfish and making their partner do everything! Jeez!"

Neither of them commented about how Korekiyo was tied up. Ouma was too busy with his dirty talk, and Korekiyo was too busy with his lack of talk.

Korekiyo could feel himself slowly reaching the edge, and the guilt was overpowering; he could feel the blood and makeup running down his face, but he was powerless to stop the meek noises he was making whenever Ouma's hand so much as grazed his cock. The fact that he still had all of his clothes on made it even worse; the fabric was rubbing against his panties (that his sister insists he must wear), making even the slightest adjustment send a tinge up his entire spine. And that's not even factoring in the ropes burning into his skin and Ouma's whispered words that Korekiyo refused to acknowledge as true. It was such a mix of unsettling emotions and feelings that Korekiyo could only hope that he would finally reach the edge and finally be freed from---

Ouma pulled his hand away. Korekiyo let out a whine.

"What? You really didn't think I'd let you come when I didn't even GET anything? Not only are you a murderous pervert, but you're conceited too. ...well, that does come with the 'murderous' part. Eh, whatever!"

Ouma settled himself on one of Korekiyo's legs. As he adjusted himself, he took his finger and began to smear the ruined makeup and the blood - still pouring out from Korekiyo's cracked nose - all over poor Korekiyo's face. It didn't take long for him to write 'will suck dick for 5000 yen' on Korekiyo's forehead, complete with arrows pointing at Korekiyo's lipstick-less mouth. Korekiyo's lip trembled; it made Ouma consider just how good it would feel to ram his dick into the little onahole's mouth and watch him gag on it. But he's such a whore, Korekiyo might just enjoy it. And that wouldn't do; this was meant to punish Korekiyo and degrade him for thinking he was equal to everyone, not to reward him for waiting so long to get his clearly needed fix!

Ouma suddenly was stricken with an idea. Not seeing any risk to it - if it hurt Korekiyo, he would just like it, after all - Ouma snatched Korekiyo's hair and forcefully jerked it around his neck. The ropes holding Korekiyo's arms began to shiver; they were desperate to clench at his neck as Korekiyo gasped from the sudden lack of oxygen. Drool began to mix with the ruined makeup and blood, to the point where it was difficult to tell which one was which. If Ouma looked closely, he could even make out a few stray teardrops.

That didn't matter. Ouma let himself grind on Korekiyo's legs, finally allowing himself some pleasure as Korekiyo used his eyes to plead for mercy. But who ever thought of giving a cumdump any relief? Their entire purpose is to be used by others; be it nee-san, Ouma, or any faceless old man who's walking on the side of the street. The sooner Korekiyo realized his place was at his feet, the better.

Ouma let out a gasp as he neared his climax, violently yanking Korekiyo’s hair back. Korekiyo’s face was practically blue from the lack of oxygen. Ouma pushed himself off of Korekiyo’s sweaty legs and stood up, tearing his pants off. Korekiyo - his hair now freed from Ouma’s grip - only had a second of relief before Ouma came all over his face.

Korekiyo didn’t move a muscle - he couldn’t if he tried, anyway - as Ouma cheerfully put his pants back on and walked around the room. Korekiyo could feel the cum sticking all over his face, turning into even more of a mess than it already was.  
He didn’t look up when Ouma came back.

“I know… you must be really sad that you didn’t come. But don’t worry. People like you don’t deserve any happiness, so you shouldn't have expected any mercy. But who knows, maybe, if you try really hard, you can find something to grind on. I’ll even help!”

Something sharp swiped behind Korekiyo; but the pain never came. Confused, Korekiyo darted his eyes around the room, not seeing what---

Oh.

Korekiyo swore he wasn’t crying. He wasn’t. Even though he could see an entire pile of his hair right next to him, even though his sister wasn’t talking to him, even though…!

“It’ll grow back. Probably.” Ouma giggled. “Well, look on the bright side. I can’t choke you with it anymore. Think of it as a parting gif---”

“You are the most dishonorable boy I’ve met in my entire life.”

Ouma looked down at the filthy slut below him. He took his foot and kicked Korekiyo in the jaw.

“That’s not even a quarter of what you did to those girls.” Ouma hissed, and stormed out of the dorm. His outfit was completely clean.

It took Korekiyo ten minutes to calm down and stop sobbing on the floor of his dorm. It took him another minute to realize that he had no idea how to release himself from the ropes.

It took another twelve hours for Saihara to stumble upon his remains, choking and sobbing around the dried blood and come.


End file.
